


mist & mysteries

by gialaxy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Slow Build, Vigilante AU, for an anon on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gialaxy/pseuds/gialaxy
Summary: She smiled to herself beneath the veil of her hat, turning to look at the familiar figure that prowled stealthily across the rooftop. He was impossibly silent, as he always was, that she sometimes wondered whether or not he was really there, whether he was merely the face of her lonesome dreams, a wisp of smoke in the night air, a ghost wandering the skyline.Or: The Painted Lady wasn't planning on spending a night at a stuffy party full of other 'vigilantes' with the Blue Spirit, but here they are, doing something that strongly resembles gossiping, and she can't help but wonder who he is beneath the mask.





	mist & mysteries

**Author's Note:**

> aka my excuse to write space goop for these two saps with way too much purple prose in between (...I was insanely wired on coffee. You can hardly blame me.)
> 
> prompt from [this ask I got](https://beifonc.tumblr.com/post/161427080702/if-ur-doing-prompts-look-i-really-need-a-date)
> 
> also!! I was revising post-caffeine and I realized there's quite a few parallels to the lovely @raisindeatre's fic [Extraordinary](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10223903/chapters/22687346), a really really beautiful piece.

There were better vantage points in the city, but for now, this one would have to do. The Painted Lady swept her brown hair behind her ear and dropped into a crouch as she looked down at the street below, specifically the building directly across the road. Her view of the entrance was blocked by the jewelry store’s silver and green awnings, but she had little time to find a better spot. It was nearly one in the morning, which meant that dealers would be arriving soon, which meant-

“It’s been a while.” 

She smiled to herself beneath the veil of her hat, turning to look at the familiar figure that prowled stealthily across the rooftop. He was impossibly silent, as he always was, that she sometimes wondered whether or not he was really there, whether he was merely the face of her lonesome dreams, a wisp of smoke in the night air, a ghost wandering the skyline.

“It has, hasn’t it?” She replied delicately, tilting her head up to look him in the face -or, well, in the ornate blue mask he never removed. At least, never in her presence.

He smirked. The blue _oni_ mask had once fully covered his face, but a nasty punch he’d gotten in the chin had cracked it clean in half during a job they’d run together some months back, leaving only his mouth and jaw exposed. He strode up to her and crouched. “I’ll bet you missed me.”

The truth was, she had -not that she’d ever admit it to him, of course. The Blue Spirit had always been something of a villain, masterminding bank robberies and orchestrating heists, the kind she usually tried to stop. But when it came to more obscure crimes, drug cartels and mafias and serial killings, he was always the 'good guy', and those kinds of crimes they fought together. The truth was that fighting those without him for the past few weeks had thrown her off-balance, nearly costing her the success of the mission and, once or twice, her life.

“My sincerest apologies, Blue, but you’re not the center of my universe,” she lied, scoffing lightly.

“Yet here I was, completely fooled,” he said with another smirk. 

She rolled her eyes, turning back to face the drop spot, and right on time too, as a man wearing an expensive-looking suit arrived at the entrance to the long-abandoned jewelry store, carrying a briefcase and straightening his cravat. Not long after, a woman, tall and slender, dressed all in white with an extravagant fur coat draped over her shoulders, turned the corner and struck up a brief and obviously forced conversation with the man. He handed her the briefcase, and she gave him something that looked like a bottle of perfume, which he tucked into his coat pocket. They parted without another word.

“Cactus juice dealers,” Blue muttered. 

“I can't believe they actually call the drug that,” she whispered back. 

“You call yourself the Painted Lady,” he jabbed playfully.

“You’re one to talk, _Blue Spirit_ ,” she snorted.

“In all fairness, I didn’t pick that name for myself. The kind people of Ba Sing Se named me.” 

She opened her mouth to reply, but shut it quickly, realising that whatever she was going to say would be a lie. Instead, she rose from the squat and dusted off the front of her maroon robes.

“Shouldn’t we follow the woman to the dealers’ home base?” She asked, noticing he wasn't planning on running after the woman as he rose from his crouch.

“There’s another deal right here in fifteen minutes. If she’s smart, she won’t be returning to their HQ,” He said firmly, and then his voice wavered, “Besides…”

He smiled- but it wasn’t a smirk or a smug tilt or a victory grin… it was _sheepish_. She raised an eyebrow, frowning because this was _not_ like him at all. Blue was always sure of himself, all smug smirks and cocky head-tilts which spelled out ‘trouble’ in neon lights. But this half-smile was… shy, embarrassed, nervous.

“Blue, what’s going on?” she asked, now well and truly concerned as she noticed that what was visible of his pale neck reddened. 

“Y’know that Vigilante Gala they’re throwing next week?” he bit his lip. 

“The party the government officials are throwing to ‘thank us’?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was uh-” he coughed into his fist, “-kinda hoping you-” he cleared his throat, winced, “-could be my date?”  


  


* * *

  
She was wearing her usual Painted Lady getup, but with a more formal version of her maroon dress, when she met the Blue Spirit on the front steps to the city hall building. The doors were flung open, warm light, laughter and the sound of glasses clinking radiating from the hall inside as well as the sound of lilting violins and pianos 

The Blue Spirit was waiting at the top of the steps, a genuine and breathtaking grin spreading over his face as he saw her. 

“My Lady,” he said, bowing slightly. He was wearing his broken mask, as always, and a black-on-black tuxedo (which looked better on him than she cared to admit).

“Blue,” she said, barely containing the smile that grew on her face as he took her hand in his, guiding her inside the building. 

The vaulted ceiling was lined with chandeliers, and ornate carvings, flowers propped against the walls, and ahead of them, a sign with an arrow pointing toward a set of open rounded doors.

**Earth Kingdom Vigilante Gala -  
Infinite Thanks to You and Your Efforts To Keep Our Great Country Safe.  
_Hosted, Funded and Sponsored by The Dai Li Corporation._ ******

Funnily enough, the actual thanking part was in smaller print than the sponsorship at the bottom of the sign.

Inside, people drank, laughed and talked. A few government officials milled about, far too eager to glimpse who the mysterious vigilantes were without the cloak of night to shield them, but of course, the country’s heroes were far too cautious to let their guard down. The room was packed to the brim with colorful masks and hats and disguises, hardly any bare faces visible.

They entered, and the Painted Lady made a beeline for the table laid with all kinds of food across the ballroom. She hadn’t let go of the Blue Spirit’s hand, and she dragged him along behind him.

“Where are you going?” he laughed, following behind her, not letting go of her hand.

She looked at him over her shoulder, blue eyes looking through the gauze that hung from her hat. “ _Food_ , you idiot.”

“Shouldn’t we at least mingle a little first?” 

“ _Food_ ,” she repeated adamantly, “It’s free, it’s for us, so why the hell not?”

“Can’t argue with that sound logic,” he drawled sarcastically as they reached the table.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing two napkins and handing one to him, dropping his hand. She observed the table like it was prey and she a hunter, deciding what to pounce on. She snatched a pork skewer laced with mangoes and red bell peppers and cilantro, an individual quiche tartlet, several golden dumplings, and, with practiced skill, piled it all onto the napkin that was the size of her palm.

From what she could see of Blue’s face, he looked surprised. “That's… impressive.” 

She smirked at him. “I am a woman of many talents.” 

“Don’t I know it,” he muttered with a bite of sarcasm, glancing around. 

She was going to spit back a remark, but was cut short by how he abruptly stopped, his mouth spreading into a gossipy grin. 

“Oh my _God_ ,” he whispered, voice laden with knowledge. 

“What has gotten into you? You sound like a middle school girl who just saw her crush look at her,” The Painted Lady scoffed, ignoring the scarlet that crept up his face at the comment. 

“See that guy over there, four o’clock from where you're standing, with the green and red mask?” He whispered. 

“...Yeah?” She replied looking around and pinpointing the tall, muscular man that stood in a group of other masked individuals, roaring with laughter. 

“He calls himself the Swordmaster. But he's never been seen with an actual sword,” Blue said. “In fact, continuing our conversation from last night, this guy advertises himself as the Swordmaster.” 

“Uh huh.”

“A week and a half ago, I ran a job with him. He was being pummeled by this one guy so I tossed him one of my dao blades,” Blue laughed airily, “He caught it, but his swordsmanship is _terrible_. I’ve seen _small children_ with better sword skills than this guy. I thought he was going to end up snapping it in half. He ended up clubbing the guy in the head with a fist.”

She raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the warm smile that spread across her face at the image of Blue guiding a kid through a sword technique. But she knew better than to ask about it. It was an unspoken rule between them- never talk about your daytime life. Occasionally they’d mention something, a funny story or a cute anecdote or a joke, explain an absence with an illness. Sharing about their life away from the silent vigil they held above the city seemed dangerous. There was a reason they wore masks and disguises, after all. 

Whoever they were during the day- whatever stories, be they tragedies or terrors, they disappeared once the sun set. Their identities vanished, replaced with the night sky in their veins and the whispers of the stars, and the drive to do some good or some evil, or a bit of both. 

But knowing that did nothing to stop the pang of longing that coursed through her. She wanted to _know_ him- know him as whoever he was under the mask, know what his life was like during the day, know the man who created the Blue Spirit. And however much she wanted this, one glance around her at the other masked heroes around them revealed how impossible it was. How unreachable. He’d always be just Blue to her, the man she met under the yellowy streetlights, shrouded in mist and mysteries.

“So, any more juicy vigilante gossip you’ve picked up?” She asks, sounding rather strained as she shoved those thoughts out of her mind, pushing a dumpling into her mouth.

Blue shrugged, then took a sniff of the air, and gagged. “Jesus,” he wheezed, doubling over to cough.

“...Blue?” She asked tentatively. “You doing okay?”

“Some poor guy reeks of cheap drugstore cologne,” he managed to get out.

She almost burst out laughing. “First, how do _you_ know what cheap drugstore cologne smells like?”

He went red, and reached to rub the back of his neck. “I-uh… may have had a phase, or whatever.”

And she truly started to laugh, because _the Great Blue Spirit of Ba Sing Se had a cheap drugstore cologne phase_. And then her eyes drifted to his lips, still positioned in an awkward smile, and there it was again. That longing, somehow endless and finite at the same time.

Her eyes must have betrayed some of this emotion, because his face grew concerned. 

“Something wrong?” He asked softly, softer than she’d ever witnessed him.

She shook her head, plastering on a smile. “No, of course not.” 

“Do you want to go?” He asked after a pause.

She frowned, confused.

“As in, away. It’s kinda stuffy in here, you know, with Mr. Crappy Cologne dropping his fumes all over the place and all,” He added quickly. “I think there’s a garden or something through there,” he signalled to a hallway to their left.

“That’d be nice,” she sighed.

He led her through the hallway, and finally, to a set of glass double doors. They stepped through them, into a small garden illuminated by the moonlight. The floor was paved stone, the simple space lined with tall, rectangular hedges. 

Blue sat on the first step leading down from the building, and she sat next to him, setting down the food-stacked napkin on her other side. 

He was gazing at the stars, broken mask shadowed. She wondered what he was seeing, wondered how he saw the world. 

“Who are you, really, under the mask?” She asked, a whisper, so soft it could’ve been mistaken for the wind caught in the leaves or the bustle of the city outside the little garden. But he heard her, as he always seemed to. 

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in the outline of his throat against the night sky. “Nobody, really.”

She couldn’t see his eyes through the mask, she didn’t even know what they looked like, but she felt as though he was looking at her.

So she followed an impulse, a gut feeling. She raised her hands to her head, and lifted off wide hat, dragging along all the gauze attached to it, and placed it on the stone beside her, exposing her face to the cool night air. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice thick with wonder, gazing at her, lips barely parted. He’d seen her countless times before- it wasn’t like the gauze was impenetrable. It was translucent at best, but it did fog up her features. 

She didn’t let her heart flutter. She didn’t let this traitorous thing that lived between her ribs grow wings and soar towards the stars. But it did anyway. 

“Wish I could say the same,” she said wryly, turning to him. Most of her face was still shrouded by the red paint that curled around her features, but she still felt bare without the hat. 

He hesitated, for a heartbeat, two, three, and he reached behind his neck, untying the piece of string behind his head. A heartbeat later and he pulled the mask off, slightly, a millimeter per second, and then she saw him.

He had the stars bottled up inside him, hiding behind his face, some of their glow managing to peek out.

His nose was aristocratic, slender and patrician, framed by sharp cheekbones, and striking draconine amber eyes that stared ahead. One of his eyes was narrowed and on a sharper slant than the other, and it took her a moment to figure out why. Around it was a burn scar- skin reddish and ridged, reaching above his brow bone and just barely touching his ear. He was handsome, undeniably so, in a way that made her wonder if he was shaped by the stars themselves.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered. He didn’t reply, jaw tensed and staring ahead at the garden- away from her, almost like he was trying to hide the scar. He did a crack a small smile, though, and she considered it a victory. 

She didn’t let herself think about how _good_ he looked when he smiled with his mask off. 

She decided fair was fair, though, so she reached up and rubbed the paint off her cheeks. It came off in flaky crumbs on her hands, probably leaving ugly streaks of red across her face, but it did enough to dissolve the curls of crimson, exposing her face. She decided to leave the moon on her brow, but she dusted off her red-stained hands of the paint flakes onto the ground. 

He looked over at her, cocking his eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“You took off your mask, I’m taking off my paint. It’s only fair.” 

“You didn’t have to,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I did.” she sighed. “Listen, Blue-”

“Zuko.”

“What?”

He swallowed, eyes shuttering. “My name is Zuko.” 

_Zuko_. 

It sounded… right. It sounded vibrant and red and burning, everything the Blue Spirit wasn’t. The Blue Spirit was cool, collected, calm. This man - _Zuko_ \- was thrumming with life, with some kind of energy that filled up the air between them, colored the silences with electricity, and something in the way he looked at her made her burst with that energy too. 

Just the night before, she’d wondered if the Blue Spirit was just her imagination. Maybe he was, but Zuko was so _real_. Sometimes she wondered that if she reached out to touch the Blue Spirit, her hand would pass through him like mist. But Zuko… she knew he was more than a midnight phantom. 

“I’m Katara,” she said.

“Katara,” he repeated, her name like honey on his lips.

“It’s nice to meet you, Zuko,” she said, trying out the name. He smiled, and it was like a star breathing, the way it curled his lips and raised his cheeks and made him look like a newly minted shooting star that fell from the sky, his eyes like pools of stardust. 

When she and her brother had been younger, they’d dreamt up worlds and universes away from the pain of their childhood. They’d built cardboard rocket ships to fly far away, to these made-up galaxies that existed only in the corners of their imagination. And when things got rough at home, they’d climb in, wish themselves away, and land in a whole new pretend world. Sometimes they were alone on a foreign planet, surrounded by thriving forest or volcanoes, sometimes they’d land smack in the middle of an alien city. Once, they’d invented a palace where the stars lived, beautiful golden people wandering inside an obsidian castle, waiting to shine their light on dark planets.

Seeing Zuko there, sitting in the moonlight, eyes shining, smile radiating warmth, she thought maybe he was one of those star people, fallen from the sky to illuminate her heart.

“And you, my Lady,” he teased, but it sounded far away the longer she stared into his eyes.

The smile faded, and he instead frowned. “Are you alright?”

She blinked, still dazed. “Yeah,” she breathed, tearing her gaze away, instead looking up at the second brightest thing in the night sky (this being the moon. The first being him, of course). “Just a little… dizzy, I guess.”

He stayed silent, looking up at the sky too. 

She didn’t let herself look at him, for fear of getting stuck in his honey eyes again. But she let her hand drift over to where his was braced on the stone step, and with every ounce of courage in her bones, she dropped it, laying her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He didn’t move, didn’t respond. 

(But she didn’t see him turn to look at her look at the moon. She didn’t see him look at her like she’s worth more than every star in the sky, she doesn’t see him look at her like she deserves more than him, a no-good vigilante with a tragic backstory straight out of a movie.)

“I’m glad I met you,” she said finally, cutting through the silence. “Not just the Blue Spirit. Zuko as well.”

She felt his hand shift underneath hers, and for a second she was scared she’d overstepped the peaceful serenity of this garden at midnight, the calm atmosphere they’d created. 

But instead, he lifted her hand to his face, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I can gladly say the same, Katara,” he murmurs into her skin. 

Heat flew to her face, turning it a deeper shade of red than it had already been from the paint smudges. When he let go of her hand, she moved closer to him, close enough to be able to rest her head on his shoulder, but somehow resisting the urge to do so, she turned her head to look at him again.

And this time, she noticed him looking at her. And this time, she looked back, staring right into his golden eyes, and he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

She thought back to when they took off their disguises just minutes ago, she thought back to that moment in the ballroom, when she’d wanted to _know_ him, and she thought of the risks that come with kissing him.

But she threw it all to the wind, launched all her doubts into the next universe when she nodded, and he lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers, so _softly_ and tenderly she could feel her traitorous heart melt, her eyes fluttering shut, her heart going off a million miles a minute, her lungs tightening in her ribcage.

She kissed him back and it was like every planet, every star, every solar system aligned itself for this moment. She kissed him back and it was a supernova, a beautiful explosion fusing them; it was a black hole, sucking all the sense out of her body; it was a star being born, particles from across the universe finding each other. 

Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands tangled in her chestnut hair, and all the stars exploded behind her eyelids because _this_ was worth every single galaxy out there. _He_ was worth every single inch of matter from here to the farthest universe and even then some.

Her midnight phantom, her ghost wandering the skyline, her wisp of smoke in the night had all vanished, replaced with this Zuko, a fire burning on her lips and igniting her entire soul, this very-much-alive piece of the cosmos, this star person straight from her dreams. He’s burned up the mist and mysteries that surrounded him from the start, leaving nothing but a trail of embers for her to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was such a wild ride to write, + I'm just gonna leave this here and go sleep because as I said, I got so wired on coffee yesterday I got like 2 hours of sleep whoops. 
> 
> anyyyyway, hope you guys liked this!!  
> if you ever want to shoot me a prompt/request a fic or just start up a conversation (pls talk to me!! I'm nice I swear) feel free to msg me through my tumblr, [@beifonc](http://beifonc.tumblr.com)!
> 
> lots of love,  
> -andrea
> 
> OH and props to you if you spotted that guardians of the galaxy reference I threw in there 
> 
> (And another bit of not-quite news, but just a tad of information, if you're ever going to refer to me using gender-neutral pronouns (pls do!!) use the name rey instead !!)


End file.
